Battlefield
by mibale
Summary: John-117 meets a strange girl from an uncivilized and unnoticed planet. As he gets to know her better they develop a relationship unlike either of them has ever experienced before. Chief/OC, rated M for language and future sexual themes.
1. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_November 9, 2525_

As metal hit ground, he smiled. His boots were firmly on the dirt once more. He stumbled as he stepped away from his drop pod and had to pause for a second to regain his composure. The gravity on this planet was somewhat weaker than he was used to, but he knew it wouldn't take long to adjust. However he would have to be sure to regularly exercise his legs and arms in order to prevent muscle atrophy. A bit of a nuisance, but certainly advantageous.

The drop down from the frigate _Ivory _had gone without a hitch. While he and his team completed their mission, _Ivory _would rest at a nearby space station for repairs and a restocking of inventory. Once he was done on this planet known only as Beyrem Kel, he would call up the ship and they would be on their way. And the sooner he got off this rock, the better.

He left his drop pod behind and surveyed the area cautiously, bringing his MA5B assault rifle to bear. Overgrown trees spilled their branches in every direction, the leaves an odd blue-green color. The ground was boggy and uneven; he found his boots would sink slightly if he didn't distribute his weight properly onto them. The sky was a very familiar blue, and not a cloud present. To the north was the remainder of the forest. To the south, a large expanse of prairieland and crops maintained by the locals. To the east, nothing but ocean. The west consisted of further prairielands until one reached Rekym Chey, the planet's major city. The vicinity he and his team of super-soldiers had landed in was known for its conservative and traditional inhabitants. It was populated by a human culture that blocked itself off from civilized society and lived the ways of old. Apparently a group of them had broken off and had begun to amass weapons and soldiers that they would use to cause trouble. He couldn't let that happen. If they were to trust the anonymous tipster, the base was in the immediate area. It could take several days of poking around the forest before they found the rebel base, and they would most likely need help from one of the locals. But once located, the base would be neutralized in no time. To sum it up, he was in the boondocks, and he was fighting hillbillies. There were such a thing as crap missions, and this just so happened to be one of them.

Having exited his drop pod, the Spartan Will-043 walked up next to him, an M6 pistol in his hands and his assault rifle slung over his back. He wore the same class of armor as his leader; a slim black catsuit and metal plates on the chest, arms, back, legs, groin, and boots. He gazed off in the direction his friend was looking at said playfully, "So, John, how about some good old-fashioned deforestation?" Will was excellent in hand-to-hand combat, which is why he had been requested by John personally.

"We're not loggers, Will," he replied. "This is an easy mission. Get in, dismantle the base, get out."

"And then get _off _this rock," a female voice said quietly. Linda-058 sat next to them, gingerly stretching her legs and arms. She was the only Spartan on the squad equipped with a sniper rifle, but that was all that was required to make her deadly. Give Linda a sniper, point her in the right direction, and she'd have the way cleared in minutes.

"Stay focused," John said to his team. He glanced around, Will and Linda giving him their undivided attention. Fighting back a groan, John said, "Where's Sam?"

Linda simply shrugged and looked at Will. He was just as clueless as she was. "Don't know," Will answered. "Did his pod make it down?" The three Spartans heard a loud clanging of metal. Their weapons were instantly up and they crouched into a defensive position. John put up a fist and his team froze. He waited patiently until another loud clang sounded from the north. He stuck up his pointer finger and tapped it in the proper direction. They moved silently through the messy forest, the clangs becoming louder, and closer together. Suddenly John spotted the fourth drop pod in the distance. He quickened his pace somewhat, Will and Linda following suit.

As he approached the pod, he brought his rifle down. "Having some trouble?" he asked to the person inside.

"It's jammed," a voice replied. John set his rifle down and curled his fingers around the pod's hatch. He yanked it forcefully, and it pulled loose, revealing Sam-034 sitting uncomfortably inside. Linda offered him a hand and he took it gratefully as she pulled him up. Sam looked like the rest of the Spartans in his armor, except that he was a great deal taller and more muscular. John always thought of him as the strongest of them all, and the two had been best friends ever since they had begun the Spartan Program.

Sam's head slowly scanned the world of Beyrem Kel. "What a shit hole," he said distastefully.

"But it's _our _shit hole," Will retorted with mock pride.

"Let's move out," John interrupted before his soldiers could become distracted. "Our objective is west of this point. Linda, scout it out. Will, you take the rear, Sam, you're with me."

They heard a dry leaf crack and all spun around, bringing their rifles up. John immediately held up a fist and his team froze. The sound had come from behind a large leaved plant similar to a gunnera, and whatever had made it had the advantage of a lot of cover. John edged towards the sound, slowly and silently. He knew that his Spartans were aching for some action, but knew that there was no reason to anticipate anything unfriendly. It was just as likely that the sound had been a rabbit as it was a rebel looking for a fight. Nevertheless, he kept his finger close to the trigger, ready to pull it and to feel the force of the rounds leaving his gun; to hold in place it as it spewed murder.

Almost as if it was aware of the attention, the plant became still. Absolute silence. Even the wind held its breath, not wanting to see chaos break out on the land. Slightly disappointed, John lowered his assault rifle and relaxed his body. He was about to turn and tell his team to keep moving when the leaves of the gunnera started moving. His rifle shot up again, aimed straight at where John expected the head of an average human to be. He could feel his team at his back, ready to fire.

Two slender hands slipped between the leaves and drew them apart. John was placed face-to-face with a young girl. She looked up at him with curious green eyes, her head tilted and her posture submissive. John stared at her. Scolding himself, he turned to the rest of the Spartans and made a downwards gesture with his hand. They obediently lowered their weapons, looking at the girl.

She looked to be in early adolescence, only slightly younger than the Spartans, with tan skin and shaggy light brown hair. Her clothing was minimal and simple: a strip of cloth wrapped around her chest, and a bikini-like bottom. She had multiple tattoos winding around her body, the most notable being several dark marks around her eyes and cheeks.

Seeing that the guns had been put away, the girl straightened her back and took a step closer to John. It was clear that she hadn't seen anything like him in her life. She walked slowly towards John, head leaning forward with intrigue. He calmly removed his helmet in an effort to create some closeness with the girl. A local of the area was just what they needed.

"Ooh," Will mused. "Native girl." John ignored him. The girl did too. She was intently focused on his brown eyes, which made John slightly uncomfortable. Face bright, she walked right up to him, merely inches from his face, inspecting every feature of him. She obviously had no respect for his personal space, a characteristic he did not think highly of. He nevertheless swallowed his pride and reluctantly allowed the girl to slide around him, touching his suit gently and running her fingers across his rifle. At last, she stepped in front of him again, satisfied with him and ready to talk.

Not knowing what to say, he decided to communicate in English. If she didn't understand English, he'd teach her English. This mission would be accomplished, and in order for that to happen, he needed native knowledge. John said clearly but hesitantly, "Uh… hello." The girl narrowed her eyes and gave him a look, as if asking him if he was kidding.

"She thinks we're _crazy_…" Sam muttered in sing song, eyes wandering through the canopy.

John was not about to tolerate insubordination right now. If this were one of their regular high-stakes missions Sam wouldn't be nearly as mouthy as he currently was. "Shut up, Sam," he ordered, and looked back to the girl. She just tilted her head and gazed at him with cautious eyes. Then she started speaking in a foreign tongue, one that flowed up and down like water. She spoke quickly and beautifully, and John was lost in seconds. He put up his hands and said, "Whoa, wait!" The girl stopped talking and gave him a confused look, appearing somewhat irritated that he interrupted her. John took a breath and said slowly, "I don't understand what you're saying."

"But of course _she _knows what _you're _saying," Sam retorted with a sarcastic smile. John had had enough of his uncalled-for remarks. He turned his head and barked, "Shut _up_, Sam!"

At this, the girl smiled. She repeated questioningly, "Shut up, Sam?" John stared at her, and she just looked back, proud of herself and happy that she was communicating with foreigners.

"Cool," Sam laughed, grinning. He glanced at John and said, "Make her say 'Polly wanna cracker'."

Thoroughly aggravated, John spun around and roared, "Shut your goddamn mouth, Sam!"

"Sam?" the girl asked. All the Spartans were now staring, bewildered and transfixed on the exceedingly strange situation. John slowly faced the girl, eyes narrowed with curious scrutiny. Her gaze was in the distance, unfocused. She repeated, more confidently, "Sam."

Honored that this native girl's first words were about him, Sam chuckled. He was starting to like her. His quiet chuckle unfortunately attracted the attention of John, who had continued scowling at him. Seeing his leader looking ready to shoot him in the face, Sam stood at attention. He had definitely pushed John too far. The girl's face fell as her new friend left her and glared up into Sam's eyes. Knowing he was on thin ice, Sam kept his sights forward into the trees, and his back straight, arms down.

"Teach her English, Sam," he said nonchalantly, but with a hidden menace in his eyes. "You're already off to a good start." Relieved, Sam let go of the breath he had been holding. He had no idea how he was supposed to get this girl to speak English, but at least John wasn't going to gut him.

Turning to the rest of the team, John said, "Will, Linda, we're on recon. We'll split up and search a different part of this area every day for two weeks. Sam in the meantime will be playing teacher's pet with our new friend over here, and if we don't find the base, she'll know enough English soon enough to tell us where it is." He gave a warning look over his shoulder to Sam. "Won't she, Sam?"

"Sir yes sir!" he answered, at attention once more.

"That's right," John said with a smirk. He turned to Will and Linda and said, "Will, take the desert. Linda, the river. I'll go to the grasslands. Sam, search the forest while you mentor our friend." They all nodded, and John felt a rush of pride. Finally, some action. This mission would be accomplished well within two weeks; he trusted his Spartans to get the job done. "All right… Move out!" Will and Linda went off in separate directions, silent and deadly. He glanced one last time at Sam, and then ran the other way, his footsteps crunching quietly for a few seconds, and then dissipating.

Once his comrades had left, Sam turned reluctantly to the small girl in front of him. Her posture was straight, eyes firmly on him, arms down at her sides. With a grin, he realized that she was trying to imitate him at attention. Cute.

He removed his helmet and sat down on the forest bed with his legs crossed. His gun sat an arm's length away from him, merely an observer of the situation. The girl looked down at him, confused, but sat obediently, crossing her legs and waiting for him to speak.

"Um, all right," Sam muttered, thinking of how to start. "Me," he said, capturing her green eyes. "I am Sam."

"Sam!" she repeated, happy to hear a word she knew.

He smiled and said, "Yeah, that'd be me. My name's Sam. Your name is?" The girl just looked at him, not understanding a word. Sam groaned and rubbed his neck. "Okay. Sam," he put both hands on his chest.

The girl stared at him for a while, but then leaned over and put both her hands on him, saying quietly, "Sam."

"Right!" he said, happy to be getting somewhere. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her thin wrists and took them off of his chest. She looked at him, nervous and afraid she had done something wrong. But Sam just took her hands and placed them on her own chest. Then he let go, and she kept her hands there, looking at them. He waited patiently, and he swore he could see the little gears turning in her head as she figured it out.

"Lerelon," she whispered to no one in particular. Sam's eyebrows rose. The girl looked up at him, eyes glittering. "Lerelon?" she repeated.

With a chuckle, Sam said, "Well, I hope that's your name." He brought his hands once more to his chest and waited for her. Understanding what he wanted, the girl said, "Sam." The Spartan grinned and then took his hands off of himself and put them on the girl's shoulders, to make sure she wasn't getting names confused with chests. The girl's eyes were locked on his, and she said confidently, "Lerelon." Sam laughed and patted her shoulder. "Lerelon," he echoed, "Well done." Seeing his grin, the girl smiled up at him, her eyes glimmering with accomplishment. Suddenly, she jumped at him and clamped her arms around his neck. Sam's first instinct was to kill her, but he restrained himself. It was just a hug. The girl rubbed her cheek against his chest and squeezed tightly. "You're a real touchy feely race, aren't you?" he mumbled, uncomfortable.

Lerelon jumped up and looked at him enthusiastically. She pointed to a tree, grinning.

"That? That's a tree," Sam said, an eyebrow raised.

"Lek tuoa remite! Remite tree!"

Sam chuckled. "Hey, _I'm _supposed to be the teacher here." He glanced around and then pointed up. Lerelon's head tilted way back and she gazed at the heavens. "What's that?" Sam asked her.

"Botibe."

"_Sky_."

Lerelon looked back at him with her alert green eyes. She pointed to the tree and repeated its English name correctly. Then she pointed to the sky and did the same. "Right, very good!" the Spartan congratulated her. She might be up to a 2-year-old's fluency by sundown.

"Sam!" she cried. He looked up, wondering what was the matter, but she just rushed over to him and pulled at his arm. She would never get him up in that fashion, so he rocked to his knees and stood. He had hardly had time to put his feet firmly on the ground before Lerelon pulled him away. He thought briefly of getting his rifle, but he didn't think it was necessary. Besides, he had a pistol strapped to his right thigh. Not that he needed it to kill anybody.

The two slid down a large hill and settled on a small landing overlooking the river. The land broke off gently into the oddly purple-colored water which flowed south toward the rest of the Spartans. Lerelon dipped her hands into the water and showed Sam the little pool she had collected between her two palms. "Lere," she said intensely.

"Water?" Sam asked, pointing at it. She nodded with fervor and turned to let the water slide back into the stream where it belonged. Then she reached deep down into the river and pulled out a small brown stone.

"That!" Lerelon grinned. "That lo!"

"Lere and lo? So your name has something to do with rocks and water?" Sam smirked. This girl was definitely a native if her name related to things you find buried in dirt. He watched as she put her belly on the ground and clenched the edge of the land with her fingers as she carefully placed the rock in its river once more.

His skin prickled and he heard a slow "click" from across the river. His heart began to race, looking at Lerelon desperately. Before he had time to think, his body was hurtling toward her and she went tumbling into the river, Sam along with her. He heard the gunshot and not a split second later, his foot screamed with agony. Another shot sounded, but this one filled him with relief. Linda and her sniper rifle were not far away. As he struggled to catch up to Lerelon in the forceful current, his wound stained the water red, small swirls of blood stretching out in the river. She swam expertly to a tree whose roots were partially exposed to the river. An arm hooked behind the root and she looked up at Sam. When he began to approach her, she put out a hand for him, which he readily grasped. She tugged him over to the tree and they both clung on for dear life. Sam reached up and got a firm grasp on the plushy groundcover. He pulled his heavy body out of the water and then grabbed Lerelon around the middle, dragging her up with him. Lerelon had just gotten her feet out of the river when Sam started grabbed her arm and forced her to her feet. He led her deep into the forest, until he was sure they were far enough away from the unknown gunman. Sam collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and feeling the evaporating water cool off his warm body. The native girl looked at him in concern and kneeled down by his side. She placed a hand on his heaving chest, causing him to look up at her exhaustedly.

"Sam," she said gently. "Dele'gin."

A laugh turned into a cough as Sam answered, "That my name now? What's it mean? 'Idiot of the River'?"

Lerelon replied in her language, and Sam couldn't catch a word of it. She probably knew he didn't understand, but it was a soothing sound either way. He could feel his body drain of energy and he hoped Linda could track their position before he lost too much blood.

"So, Rockwater," he mumbled sleepily. "You seen a rebel base around here? About… yea big… lots of guns…" The last thing he saw was the girl's concerned face.

"We land on the planet just as planned, but of course you can't even get your _pod _open. We try to start our mission but you drag a native girl into the operation. When I give you _one simple order_ to _walk around a forest with this girl_ you somehow get yourself shot in the foot and almost drowned. Are you defective, Sam?"

"No sir," the Spartan replied. He hated when John reprimanded him, but as luck would have it, John just _loved _putting him in the doghouse.

"You are _so lucky_ Linda was by the river. If she hadn't picked off that rebel gunman both you and your little girlfriend would be dead in the water right now. We could have used that gunman to find the base, but unfortunately Linda had to kill him because she somehow thinks you're worth it. Did she make a mistake?"

"No, sir."

"That's right. You better shape up, Sam. This _is_ a smaller mission, but it doesn't mean we can take unnecessary risks. When I give you an order I expect you to carry _out _that order. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, it is, sir."

"Good. Now I _order _you to stay here with the girl while Will, Linda, and I inspect the river closer. If one rebel was on the banks, chances are there are more where he came from." John inspected his friend, who bore a resemblance to a scolded child. "And for god's sake, Sam, keep your rifle with you. You're a bleeding idiot, but we can't lose you."

"Thank you, sir."

John nodded at him and then glanced at the native girl, who was spying from afar. She yelped and ducked behind a bush, her face turning red. With a smirk, John ran off to join Will and Linda at the riverfront. When John was a good distance away from them, Lerelon ventured out to Sam.

"That?" she asked, pointing at the squad's leader.

"That's John. He's a good guy, he just gets pissed when I don't do what he says." Sam glanced at Lerelon, who appeared entirely uninjured despite him pushing her into a raging river earlier. "All right, Rockwater. Sit yer ass down and get ready for some schooling, Spartan-style."


	2. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_November 15, 2524_

In the following week, Sam had managed to bring Lerelon up to an almost preschool understanding of the English language. The Spartans had a lot of trouble finding any traces of rebel scheming anywhere in the area, and they were beginning to wonder if the gunman on the river wasn't just some fluke. Meanwhile, Lerelon remained very oblivious to the urgency of their mission. She developed quite a liking to Sam and would greet him first every day when she came to see her new friends. Will found her very entertaining, and even Linda enjoyed the young girl's blissful enthusiasm. John was the only one who didn't give her any attention, and he frequently refused to call her by her name. Lerelon seemed a little troubled by his hostility, but it didn't bother her too much. Sam assured her that he needed to be detached from everyone in order to be a good leader. But it was evident to Lerelon that John was detached for more than that reason.

"Spartans!" Lerelon called, panting as she jogged up to the camp.

"Hey, Rockwater!" Sam replied. "Where's the fire?"

"There is no fire," she answered with an eyebrow raised.

"He means, why are you running so fast?" Will clarified with a grin.

"Demke Chubete Jerec!" she said very quickly. "Night of the Gone Chubete!"

"You mean your star?" asked Sam, cocking his head.

"There is an eclipse tonight," Linda said softly.

"Chubete is gone. You see big Fyrel moon!"

Sam laughed. "Is that bad?"

"Come come come!" Lerelon urged, clenching her fists and smiling exuberantly.

Will looked at his fellow Spartans. "A party? I'm game."

"What party are you talking about?" said John as he walked in from the trees. Everyone became very solemn on his appearance, and he noticeably bristled.

"Lerelon's got some big eclipse party, and she wants us to come," Sam explained. John just kept looking at Sam, wondering if this was a silly fabrication. "Can we go?"

"To a _party_?"

"C'mon, John," Will said teasingly, "we could complete this mission with our hands tied. Can't we have a little fun?"

John stood silently for a few seconds, considering the proposal. "If anyone is going to this 'party', it'll be me. It could be a good opportunity to gather information from the natives." He spoke with deadly, mischievous eyes, sarcasm tightly woven into his words. "The rest of you will continue searching and I'll go inspect her people. That is, if the invitation is open to me." He turned to Lerelon and she tensed up. Sam hoped she would just take the bait and go home. John didn't want her around, and he wanted nothing to do with her parties.

"Okay," she answered confidently. "You can come now?" John leaned back slightly, evidently not expecting that response.

"You're serious?" Will asked. "You want _him _to go with you?"

"Yes, it's fun party! John comes please?"

Sam gave John a smirk. "Yeah, John, you promised."

With a sigh, he answered, "Yes, I suppose I did." Sam couldn't help but wonder if he didn't actually _want _to go with Lerelon to the celebration. It would be no impossible task to go back on his promise to her; he didn't owe her his sincerity. And still, there John was, going to a party, and there the others were, forced to stay behind. John was either a manipulative genius, or an unbelievable asshole.

John walked over to Lerelon but she stopped him from going any further by putting her arm out in front of him. "Please, no gun." He was tempted to challenge her, but decided to do what she said. It would probably go smoother if the natives took him as a friendly anyways. He tossed his rifle at Will, who grabbed it easily out of the air. The pistol on John's hip slid out and was thrown to Linda. She caught it and set it carefully onto the soft boggy forest floor.

"Sam, you're in charge."

Sam let loose a playful grin.

"But no dicking around," John ordered. "I _mean _it." Then he turned to Lerelon and said quietly, "Let's get going." Striding away, the girl threw a wary glance back at Sam. This was not what she had intended to happen when she came joyfully into their camp. She had never been alone with John before, and she wasn't sure how to act around him. But Sam smiled reassuringly and she was able to smile back. Watching them disappear into the trees, Sam hoped that John would let himself relax for just one night.

John and Lerelon were trapped in an awkward silence of unfamiliarity and cultural divide. They walked without a word through the lush forests of Beyrem Kel, both privately wishing that the trek could be much shorter. The two together looked painfully unnatural. Lerelon would be much happier dodging amongst the foliage, using her fingers to touch her path and let it guide her to her home. John would have been happier marching straight through the forest, a gun in hand and a mission in mind. Unfortunately neither of them received their wish. They were a very unlucky couple.

As an added gesture of unfriendliness, John refused to remove his helmet and concealed all emotion from the girl. She found him incredibly rude and unpredictable. He seemed to, beyond all measures, hate the idea of going to the celebration with her, and yet he walked briskly by her side toward her village, with all intentions of attending.

This trail of thought brought up another unforeseen problem. How was she supposed to explain his presence to her people? They were not overwhelmingly welcoming to foreigners, much less foreigners with weapons. They would want to know what his business on the planet was, where he was from, why he wore such strange apparel. Even if Lerelon was privy to this information, she doubted her people would like the answers. All she knew of the mysterious visitors was that they were some sort of warriors, trying to find dangerous people who lived on her planet. She decided this was something that her family did not need to know. She would need to develop lies. Many lies.

"John," she ventured to ask, "where you live?"

He seemed disappointed that the treasured silence between them had been disturbed, but nonetheless replied, "We live mostly on ships when we're not on a mission."

"What is ships?"

He sighed. "Ships are… They can be in the water, like a boat, or they can be space ships, like what we use."

"Space is sky?"

"It's _like _the sky. But it's black. You know, what you see at night, when you can see stars."

"Jo'i beritec," she said with a grin.

"Sure."

"Space ships can fly?"

"Uh, yeah. It's different in space, though. Everything can fly. There's no ground." The girl looked at him, absolutely enraptured with the concept, and he wondered what it would be like to take her up on a ship like the frigate _Ptolemy _and see how she would react. It would be humorous and somewhat heartwarming to see her innocent fascination with the world he daily took for granted.

"I want to see it," the girl said suddenly.

John was immediately brought back to his senses, glancing at her for a second before replying, "Can't. Not right now."

She smiled at him, "Yes. We're going to the party." After a moment of thought, she continued, "We'll go later."

John didn't speak. He didn't think her words needed a response. The two were once more plunged into a silence. Lerelon subtly swore at him under her breath, beginning to get fed up with his aloofness. When he gave her a sideways glance, she bristled. Blood rushed to her face and she looked to the ground. She hoped he hadn't heard.

"Do you know of any base near here?" John said suddenly. It seemed to catch her off-guard as she quickly looked at him.

"I don't understand."

The Spartan huffed impatiently. "A base. A big stone building."

She furrowed her brow and shook her head. "There is no stone. There is animal skin buildings. In my city, you can see it!"

He glared angrily at her, thankful his visor hid his growing frustration from the uneducated girl. Becoming dejected, he wondered if there would even be anyone in the village that knew more English than Lerelon. If he were to make assumptions about her people based on what she knew and how she acted, the village would be populated with ditzy, ill-spoken idiots. Somehow he convinced himself it was worth it. They were making no progress back at their camp. It was time to innovate.

"Come!" the girl said gleefully. John was startled to see her standing at the edge of the forest. He had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even realized they were almost out of the dense collection of trees. She swiftly darted out of his field of view, stepping out onto a large field covered in various crops. He followed her, gazing at the immense stalks of wheat and corn and barley. It seemed that the ill-spoken idiots were at least smart enough to develop a farming system. It was possible that there was hope for this mission after all.

_A/N_

Why yes, the future Master Chief is going to a dinky little hillbilly party! Why no, I have no shame at all! Don't worry, blood and anger shows up eventually, but not right now. Right now we are happy and naive.

Changed the name of the ship from Ivory to Ptolemy, if anyone caught that. Cookies for anyone who knows who Ptolemy is without Googling him.

And just so you all know, Lerelon's name is pronounced "lara-lone". It's, like, exotic and stuff. I sort of half came up with the language. Not to the extent of Tolkien, but I have some rules and tenses developed. Not that anyone cares.

WARNING: I am female and the Chief is hot, so get used to it. I'm going to be exercising a bit of artistic freedom in this fic in order to make it interesting (and sexy *cough*). Nothing crazy OOC, but obviously the Chief won't be one-dimensional stud muffin we've all come to love. Also, other things will be happening that may not be 100% in tune with the Halo verse, though I will stay as true to it as I can while still having fun.

And just so all of you know, I'm a huge fan of the Halo universe and I only hope to do it justice. I'm not trying to ruin your favorite characters or piss all over Bungie's canon or anything. Believe me, I _know _the rules, I'm just choosing to bend them.

As always I appreciate your comments and suggestions. And pie! I appreciate pie.

Love,

The Author


	3. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_(Excerpt from "Beyrem Kel: a Past and a Future" by Senbe Cecinobo, published in the academic journal "Galactic Anthropology" in May of 2514.)_

Beyrem Kel was a highly-vegetated planet comparable to the size of the planet Mars, and in 24th century it became the only planet in the Chubeteyru System to be settled by human beings. The system was located just beyond the reach of the Inner Colonies, and was largely ignored by the human race despite its earth-like planets. It was not considered a prime subject for possible settlements, considering it was dangerous and unsightly, riddled with debris threatening to crash into any planet unlucky enough to be in the way.

The nearby system of the star Devym had become absorbed in war and rebellion against the United Earth Government in the mid-23rd century, and remained unstable and violent for generations. Those who elected not to fight were pejoratively called Chubeti, or the word for "white-colored" in the system's language of Ymerye. (The color white was culturally considered the color of emotionlessness and disgust. This color was avoided.) The Chubeti did not have rights and were not protected under the systemic government, as they were seen as weak and traitorous. They called out to the UNSC for help. Quietly and professionally, the group of pacifists was relocated to the nearest suitable planet: Beyrem Kel. Once the refugees had been set down on the planets, they were immediately left to their own resources. The UNSC abandoned them as swiftly as it had saved them. Begrudging, but free of war, they crafted the new world in their own image.

The planet was literally a one in a million chance. It orbited a type A star, one not known for sustaining terrestrial planets. In fact it was the only rocky planet in the system; all of its sister planets were gaseous. Beyrem Kel was young, as was its mother star, and had only just recently developed its vast system of plants and lower life forms. Land animals were virtually nonexistent, meaning the human settlers were the first complex organisms to live on Beyrem Kel. Adjusting to such a simple and underdeveloped world was difficult for the humans, but they soon adapted to their environment and called it home.

The settlers were not scientists, doctors, or businessmen. They were average people, with average interests and skills. The advancements of their previous home worlds did not transfer to Beyrem Kel along with the people. At a loss, they had to choose whether to re-create everything civilized society had so effortlessly given to them, or to make do with what they had. Factions were formed. Most of the settlers desired a modest, natural life, and created small villages across the planet consisting of 2 or 3 families each. They developed farming communities; some even chose the hard life of hunting and gathering. These people called themselves the Rycele, "the clean". Those outside these communities have elected to call them Temteti, "the frozen ones".

These "outsiders" consisted of anyone who chose not to embrace a simple life, the people not allowed within Temteti communities. They originated from a small group of settlers who optimistically worked together to compile the lost knowledge of their ancestors and become once more a civilized society. These people were rejected and ignored by the vast majority of settlers. Shunned by their own families, they migrated northwards where they made their progress in solitude. They developed a writing system, an economy, a government, and built cities that grew with each generation. The central hub of these people was the metropolis known as Rekym Chey. In 2409 they joined the Unified Earth Government. To themselves they are known as Barjeti, "those who look up". The Temteti have no name for them.

Each group happily ignores the other. The developments, or lack thereof, of their mother language Ymerye make it nearly impossible for either group to communicate with each other. The Temteti have kept Ymerye as their cultural language, with different dialects distinctive to each community. The Barjeti language originally developed from Ymerye with additions from other major languages, mainly English, and eventually became a language altogether unique to the people. This language of the Barjeti is called Barjetimowin, though English is used in business and government. The Temteti associate Barjetimowin with betrayal, and if anybody within the Temteti communities is caught speaking the language, they are exiled.

The future of Beyrem Kel is uncertain. As the civilization of the Barjeti continues to expand southward, their influence is becoming more apparent to the Temteti. With each new generation, more Temteti are forced to leave their homes after showing an interest in the outside world. Their population is dwindling and their power dissolving. Desperate to avoid industrial life, the Temteti's land is compressing into smaller, denser communities, and their avid hatred of the Barjeti has become more extreme of late. If the two groups clash there will be a distinct power struggle on the planet, and the outcome will be the loss of a culture. Whether this will be the forward-thinking Barjeti or the conservative Temteti cannot be predicted. It is in the best interest of the academic community to seriously examine the situation and work for a better future for the people of Beyrem Kel.

_A/N_

_It's a short chapter. I apologize. The plot will be back next time. Thought you all should know the history of Beyrem Kel, considering I came up with one anyway. I tried to make it interesting and complex, because I really do like creating different cultures and worlds. Any astronomy lovers out there? I put a lot of work into figuring all that star system stuff out. Hope I got it all right! Astronomy is more like a hobby for me…_

_The pronunciation of all the different foreign words is sort of odd. Like it has an official pronunciation, and then there's the way I say it. Because apparently I don't feel like speaking my own made up language correctly. Here's a bit of clarification: Ymerye = ih-MAH-ree-uh, Beyrem Kel = BAY-rum kehl, Rycele = RISS-ah-lee. The other words are either easy to pronounce or they're just not important._

_Also, anyone who notices my stupid little Ojibwe reference gets a cookie. I'm taking a class on American Indians… Just seemed like a cute insert into the story. Actually, I insert lots of shit into my stories. Like little inside jokes with myself. If anyone notices an insert, you are AWESOME and you should let me know you found it._

_And before I forget, thank you everyone who gave me pie after chapter 2! What shall I ask for this time? Hmmm… I demand brownies!_

_Love,_

_The Author_


	4. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 4

_A/N_

_**SORRY **to everyone who has waited so long for me to update this story. I assure you Battlefield is very close to my heart, and I have good reasons for taking forever to write it._

_**THANK YOU **to everyone who has encouraged me and waited so patiently. I get very stressed out when I think of people waiting for me to do something, which often leads to me cowering in a corner and doing absolutely nothing._

_I greatly appreciate support and reviews. Helpful suggestions would be wonderful. I am fueled by positive feedback (REALLY). I do hope you haven't all lost interested in the story… But if you have, just read all the old stuff again :)_

_Enjoy!_

John and Lerelon walked by field after field of Beyremi crops, the vast hilly landscape seeming virtually endless as it disappeared into the sky. John was able to recognize several genera of grain and even a large swath of sugar beets, but many of the crops were utterly alien to him. There was a striped, light-red type of gourd he had never seen before, something appearing to be a strange cousin of corn, and a stout leafy vegetable that smelled so revolting it had made his nose burn. When he had asked Lerelon about the reason for this odor she had merely looked at him dumbly, as if she had no clue what he was referring to.

Once in a while John would sight a hunched figure far out in one of the fields, tending to the crops. He assumed they were members of Lerelon's community but he could unfortunately gather nothing from so far away. They moved slowly through the rows of plants, practicing a kind of relaxation that comes only with expertise. The figures seemed to take no notice of himself and Lerelon, which suited John quite well.

Restlessness began to seep in as he wondered if Lerelon even knew where they were going. Infinite sky, hills, and very distant mountains filled his vision. He kept an eye out for any signs of the rebel base his mission was centered around, but somehow it seemed in vain. This planet had to be the most exhaustingly stagnant place he had ever been.

"John," the girl said suddenly. He glanced at her with disinterest, but her serious countenance communicated the importance of the situation. She gestured to a large stone stele just under a hundred meters away. "That city. My friends in my city." Her lack of fluency amused him as he entertained the possibility that the rock _was _in fact her city. Judging by the level of civilization he had seen on this planet so far, the scenario was not unlikely.

She had noticed his lack of attention and gently put her hand around his bicep. Though his skin shivered angrily under the contact he remained still. He focused calmly on her as she gazed intently at him. "You are _nice_?" she asked, a trace of pleading in her voice.

He forced himself to not smile at the silly question. "Yes, I'll be nice," he answered, lying through his teeth.

She grinned at him. "They are your friends too!" she said cheerfully, as though this should excite him. He wondered what kind of rose-colored glasses she saw the world through that made her think all of humanity was on her side. She certainly seemed happy, but she was painfully naïve. In any other case John might consider giving her a dose of reality, but in this case her ignorance was working to his advantage.

As they neared the stele Faith suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. She closed her eyes in some sort of bliss and began to whisper what sounded like a prayer in her native tongue. John observed quietly as she dropped to her knees, touched the grass, and slowly rose up again as she ran a finger up the length of the tree tattoo on her torso. When she began to repeat the action, John knew he was in for a wait. He glanced at the rock she was supposedly praying to and noticed rough reliefs carved into the surface. It appeared to be an image of a man with attributes of a tree, dressed in elaborate flowing garments and stretching his branches and roots to many smaller beings. In the middle ground next to his long trunk stood four symbols whose meaning was unclear. One of the four symbols in particular was larger and colored red, a brilliant contrast to the rest of the relief. He felt eyes on his shoulder, meaning the girl had finished her ritual and was now directly behind him.

Without bothering to look at her, he asked, "What's that?" pointing to the image.

"Casadi," she answered softly.

"Excuse me?"

She smirked when she saw his impatient face. "Good spartan. He helps us."

Her inability to speak proper English was certainly as perturbing as it was entertaining. John could only speculate that the figure on the stele was some sort of cultural deity, and was used to distinguish the girl's tribe from its neighbors. The fact that she had uttered the word "spartan" was a clear sign that she admired this Casadi figure. It was one of the first English lessons she received, John made sure Sam had taught her to respect the word.

A tug on his arm prompted him to once again move forward. The girl seemed to be bursting with excitement as if she expected a massive celebration to be thrown once they arrived in her town. If there _was _such a celebration waiting for him, John would have to reevaluate his current plan of action. Keeping a low profile was incredibly important for this mission to go well.

The two walked among rolling hills that stretched up on either side of them, and John began to notice more signs of an advanced culture. Fences started to stretch along the borders of the crop fields, baskets of harvested fruit sat unattended here and there, and every once in a while John could hear the sound of cattle lowing, and catch a glimpse of a plough being dragged through the dirt.

"We take the food to the city," Lerelon explained, gesturing to the laborers scattered among the hills. "_Melete_ goes to the city, _bayteroilo _goes to the ground." She looked at him with a proud smile, obviously quite pleased she could convey complicated subjects with her limited grasp of the English language.

However John did not bother to notice her joyful expression. "You're harvesting the fruit," he mused as he scanned the fields, "and planting the grain." As technologically impaired as the girl's culture was, they were certainly damn good farmers.

Lerelon frowned at her companion. She thought she was very skilled at communicating with him and his friends; she had learned so many new words and had to piece them together meticulously just to get her message across. The spartans hadn't tried learning any of _her _words, so she thought they ought to be thankful to her for making conversation easier between them. She was thinking of other new words she could use in this situation to show John just how much she had learned, but her thought process was suddenly interrupted.

"_Bynten remloce, Lerelon?_" someone shouted angrily nearby. John's body was immediately spliced with adrenaline as he prepared to defend himself if necessary.

But before he could do anything, the girl stepped protectively in front of him. "_Neyeler jetisme!_" she roared back at the stranger, her face absolutely furious. All John could do was stare at the small figure attempting to shield him from possible harm. It would be fascinating if it weren't so hilarious.

Another voice piped up, again hurling cross words at Lerelon and John. Again she spat at them, issuing what seemed like an immense slur of profanities, not relenting until the accusers had grudgingly gone back to their work and left the two kids alone. Despite the obviously heated interchange, John supposed that Lerelon had handled that situation well enough and that his skills were not needed at this time. And although he appreciated this lucky occurrence he couldn't help but wonder what exactly had been said about the girl and himself, and what exactly she had said back.

Rather roughly, Lerelon yanked on his arm and forced him to keep walking. She still seemed quite irritated at the previous altercation and simply refused to look at John as she led him nearer to her community's establishment. It was somewhat endearing, the fervor she displayed as she jumped to his defense. She was the first person outside the SPARTAN Project who had shown such a willingness to protect him. Though he wanted to take it as a compliment, he couldn't help thinking she was incredibly foolish to be so concerned about his safety when they barely knew each other, and when he _clearly_ did not reciprocate these feelings.

It was then that Lerelon seemed to have calmed down, her grip on him loosening and her tense gait becoming less forceful. With a heavy sigh, she glanced up at him and sheepishly said, "They don't like you."

"Really?" he responded flatly. As if that hadn't been glaringly evident.

She furrowed her brow and looked skeptically at him, the sarcasm completely lost on her. "Yes, really," she replied with intent. "They say you need to go."

"And what did _you_ say?"

Lerelon suddenly blushed and looked straight forward, apparently not planning on answering that question. Stifling a laugh, John let the girl remain silent and pried no further.

As the two continued to walk, John could see a small village in the distance surrounded by a multitude of trees. The natives' dwellings appeared to be nothing more than thatched tree fronds and sturdy branches thrown together to make a simple, dry patch of ground. Their crude and hasty construction was indicative of a nomadic culture, but judging by the size of their crop fields they had no plans to leave the area any time soon. The paradox was certainly intriguing, but John was certain Lerelon would not have the linguistic capacity to explain it to him. That is, if she even knew the answer.

The faces of deeply disturbed native people became easier to make out as Lerelon nervously took John closer to the city center. John had a distinct feeling he was not welcome here, and the locals made no great effort to assuage this feeling. Again he found his fingers eagerly brushing the length of his concealed pistol as if they desired a violent confrontation. Though he admitted it would be a welcome thrill to find battle on this dull excuse for a planet, he knew better.

He had a rebellion to eradicate.


	5. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 5

The sweet smell of ozone emanated from the forest floor; the sky morphed into a beautiful dark green and a feeling of restlessness sifted through the night air. Sam threw a disinterested glance up from his dismantled and newly cleaned weapon. Wind rustled the leaves of the trees, creating a nervous hiss all around him.

Looked like rain. _God damn it, _Sam thought. _And who's to say it doesn't rain fucking acid on this planet? _He quickly reassembled the rifle and jumped to his feet. A crash of thunder sounded far in the distance, but there was no doubt the storm was getting closer.

As the temporary leader, his first thought was to reconvene with Linda and Will, get to that little rocky overhang they'd found to the north, and wait it out. From there they would figure out their next plan of action.

Sam balked. His first thought was a _plan_? Dear god, what was next? Following orders?

A reshuffling of priorities was needed. This time Sam made sure that tactical procedures were very, very low on the list, and having a bit of fun was very, very high. It wasn't often that he was able to skillfully lose contact with the rest of his team while he was in command, and Sam was never the sort of person to let wonderful opportunities slip past him.

John_ really_ shouldn't have left him in charge.

* * *

Stomach muscles tightened as a feeling of anxiety overtook him. It wasn't the fact that he was deep inside the natives' settlement with a civilian girl, surrounded by strange analytical faces; he could handle that much. No, it was the sky that had John nervous. The clouds above had built up like sea foam, and the wind was really starting to pick up. This did not bode well.

A low rumble of thunder confirmed his suspicions. It was going to rain, and soon. The timing really couldn't have been any worse. A rain storm would most likely drive all the natives back into their poorly-made little huts, and his plan of subtly obtaining information concerning the rebel group would be made nearly impossible. He'd relied heavily on this festival to create a jovial indifference among the natives, making it much easier to get what he wanted out of them. How the hell does the weather switch from clear skies to a thunderstorm in less than 15 minutes, anyway?

"_Shit_," he spat under his breath, stopping in the middle of the path.

"What is that?" Lerelon said with genuine curiosity.

John threw a glance at her. He wasn't about to explain the meaning of that particular word to her under the circumstances. In fact, he was rather surprised it wasn't one of the first words Sam taught her. "Nothing," he replied. "It's going to rain."

"Yes!" the girl answered with a toothy grin. "Rain always happens today. When Chubete go, Fyrel has rain." John narrowed his eyes and stared at her skeptically. She burst out in laughter. "You scared? A little rain, and you scared?"

"_No_, I'm not scared of _rain_," John said. "I just don't believe a big chunk of rock can control the weather."

"Not a rock!" the girl shouted, aghast.

"Right, it's not a rock, it's your god. The magical entity inside your moon is affecting the weather on this one tiny spot on the globe. Silly me."

This seemed to be too much to comprehend for the girl, and she just looked blankly back at him. The Spartan sighed. "Though I suppose this means the party is still happening."

"Yes!" she answered, enthusiasm returned full force. "Rain not make _us _scared."

John considered correcting her once again, but the motion would have been pointless. She had an admirable grip on the English language, and yet she seemed to only understand what she wanted to understand. Or, perhaps, was she just playing with him?

"Lerelon!" a low voice shouted angrily. John turned to see an elderly man hobbling out of a modestly decorated hut, headed for himself and the girl. The man's skin was almost completely covered in black tattoos which wound their way across his body, almost seeming to go inside him. He was dressed in scant clothing the same fabric as Lerelon's; some sort of pelvic covering hanging off his hips and a thin ceremonial poncho on his shoulders. Though the man looked hardly a threat, John's fingers were already brushing his concealed pistol. He wouldn't deny he was almost hoping for a skirmish.

The elderly man began to yell at Lerelon in their native tongue, his arms waving all about to accentuate his disagreeable mood. Lerelon was quiet in front of the man, something John thought had been outside her capability. She simply tried to offer an explanation when she could, only to be trampled by the man's angry words. A furious glare every once in a while and a bout of violent pointing made it quite clear that the conversation was about John. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected. The distrusting stares which had ushered him into the settlement did not demonstrate a great receptiveness to strangers.

Finally the man stopped his rant and allowed Lerelon give her piece. The girl spoke calmly and decisively, and John watched with fascination as the old man's face slowly changed from rage into understanding in a matter of seconds. The man waved a wrinkly hand dismissively and shuffled away from the two companions, apparently conceding to the girl's argument.

"Who was that?" John asked Lerelon.

"Our leader."

"What did you tell him?"

Her eyes glittered mischievously as she met his gaze. "I lied."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. The girl walked away and he chuckled as he followed her. "I guess that's one way to do it."

* * *

Tiny droplets of mist began to accumulate on Will's visor. He wiped them off carefully with his sleeve and pushed himself farther under the overhang. Though it was very fortunate to find this sort of natural shelter in a forest, the overhang was not terribly large or effective. He looked over to Linda, who was sitting quietly next to him, clutching her sniper rifle to her chest.

"I don't think he's coming," Will finally said.

Linda's shoulders dropped in what looked like a sigh. She looked off into the light rain as if half-hoping Sam would soon scuffle under the overhang with them.

"Remember when John left him command on that Jerome mission? He purposely sent you, Kelly, and I on a wild goose chase just so he could go into town and get a hooker."

The girl grinned thoughtfully. Of course she remembered that mission. She remembered it well. Sam told them to search a large warehouse for an illegal weapons cache, and by the time they figured out what he'd done, the bastard had blown half his monthly allowance just to get laid. Chief Mendez was so furious he'd put Sam in solitary confinement for 24 hours. He was still smirking when Mendez finally let him out.

"Well…" Will said, smiling gently at his comrade, "I guess we're on our own for a while."

"It certainly looks that way."

_A/N A bit of Sam, Will and Linda for a nice change of pace. I really love Sam, you guys. I love him a lot. Why, Eric Nylund? Why?_

_I'm really sorry that I update so sporadically. I'm going through some shit right now and it's hard enough to just keep going, much less work on a big story like this (it may not be evident as of right now, but I have a lot of plans for Battlefield). I promise you that this story is my baby and I care very much about it. I won't be abandoning it._

_Thank you so much for all your support. I honestly don't think I could have gotten this far without your encouragement. You're all fabulous :)_

_(A bit of a side note: If anyone is a fan of Myers Briggs Typology, I have actually typed all the main characters in Battlefield. See if you can figure out everyone's type!)_


	6. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 6

_November 15, 2524_

On the inner-system planet of Beyrem Kel the rain does not begin with a light mist, gather weight until it becomes a spray, and eventually climax in a barrage of heavy drops and petering off to a light mist again. No, the rain on Beyrem Kel could not stand to be that patient. On that wild planet the rain comes down like a wall, slamming the land in a violent dance, and disappearing as quickly as it arrived.

This meteorological phenomenon originated an interesting game among the indigenous peoples. Because the rain falls so decisively, one can see it approaching from miles away. Thus, it became a tradition for young people to try to outrun the storms. Mother nature inevitably wins, but the children enjoy playing this game with her nonetheless.

On Beyrem Kel, rain is a beautiful miracle to be celebrated each and every time it arrives. Unaffected by floods and hurricanes, those on Beyrem Kel see only the positive qualities of a rain storm: clean water, a healthier harvest, not to mention a convenient distraction for certain energetic youths. In fact it is taboo in many Beyremi tribes to stay inside during a storm without at least once poking one's head out to smell the fresh air. Rain is a gift, and must be appreciated. Though, some are more naturally predisposed to this appreciation than others.

* * *

He learned two things during training, two things he knew he would never forget.

Firstly, Spartans never die.

Secondly, Spartans never trip. And fall on their faces. Like _assholes_.

As he rubbed the dirt from his eyes, Sam had a feeling he wasn't quite the ideal model of a Spartan. He was half-buried in the forest's undergrowth, his forearms were bleeding and his jaw hurt something awful. Pushing himself to his knees, he stretched out his back and felt his joints crack with relief. But the fall had hurt his pride more than anything.

In his defense, the sky had gotten much darker with clouds of the coming storm. He had been concentrating on determining his location, so he hadn't been watching where he was going. And that tree root had _definitely _not been there before.

He pulled his pistol from his side and gently inspected it. Some superficial scratches, a dent or two, but nothing Mendez would whip his ass for. As Sam slipped the pistol back in its holder, he noticed that he was missing several clips of ammo. He was sure they'd fallen out when that tree root maliciously tripped him, but he didn't think he had much hope of finding them in the underbrush.

As Sam began to sort through the leaves and bushes searching for his clips, a noise distracted him. It was very quiet, coming from the east and headed for him. It was a constant soft pattering, like a thousand cartridges falling to the ground in unison.

Sam got to his feet and worked his way through the trees toward the sound. He stumbled out into a clearing and his heart stopped. An immense sheet of water coming towards him across the plains, and damn fast too.

"Oh fuck," he breathed. But as he kept staring in awe, a smile crept to his lips. The noise got louder, pounding the very earth, the wall of rain crashing onto the planet like a wave.

Sam gained his wits and weaved ecstatically back into the forest. He couldn't keep himself from bursting into laughter as he sprinted away from the storm. It felt almost like a race between him and the elements. He wished Kelly were here. Then it would _really _be fun.

He bounded over logs, roots, and plants and narrowly avoided being smacked in the face by some poorly located branches. It didn't take long before he could feel the heat of the rain at his back, radiating a primal warmth that only excited him further. The water grabbed his foot suddenly before engulfing the rest of him in its maw. He was practically thrown to the ground with the force of the rain, tumbling down a hill before finally slamming into a tree.

Sam's immediate response to the situation was "Ow", but a quick mental self-check assured him he was not seriously injured. Droplets pelted his face as he lay there, catching his breath. The sound of the storm was so loud that he could hardly hear himself think. Now of all times, when he really _needed _to think. He was at the bottom of the hill in a rainstorm, nearly unconscious, bruised back, with no idea where he was or where his teammates were. Not the ideal circumstances, but he'd seen worse. He could decipher his location with ease once he got to high ground. Provided the rain finally stopped blinding him.

Muscles stretched and joints creaked as he sat upright against the offending tree. The forest was simply gigantic, seemingly endless layers of green upon green. Sam felt uncomfortable. He was rarely left alone in the wilderness with no direction, and never in a storm like this. Once he figured out where he was, he still didn't know where to go. Regroup with Linda and Will? Crash that eclipse party John and Rockwater were going to? Or, perhaps, get hopelessly lost… shed all his clothes, drop his weapon, reach the brink of starvation… maybe they'd think he was dead. Maybe some good Samaritan would pick him up, give him some money, and send him on his way.

He heard a branch snap under the deafening roar of the rainfall and brought his pistol to bear. He might not be rested enough to get to his feet, but he still looked pretty intimidating even when on one knee.

A figure approached him through the brush, humanoid and quite small. Sam kept his eyes fixed on whatever it was, ready to fire the second he was given reason to. It was never good to be the first of the team to kill a civilian on a new planet, but he'd take his chances.

* * *

John leaned cautiously against the thatched wood hut. He didn't trust the thing to support his weight, much less its own. The native girl had gone off to an undisclosed location so he was left to stand around, watching her community members prepare a gathering area for their celebration.

The storm might as well have been right upon them; he knew it was close. Yet the people's mood only seemed to increase in excitement as the skies darkened. They hefted long, slender logs to an open space in front of him, placed them end-to-end in a large circle, and began to toss colored dust onto the dirt inside. John sighted torches spaced along the circumference of the circle, complete with their own lids to protect the flames from the storm. Children sprinted through the obstacle course of workers, chasing each other, laughing, almost seeming happy to be a distraction.

He heard the native girl approaching quietly from behind him but chose not to notice her. She was doing her best to be dead silent, creeping along the edge of the hut with slow, fluid movements. It wasn't just the sound of her walk that made her easy to identify; she also had a smell. John couldn't quite place what the scent's origin was. It was pervasive, not exactly pungent, but not subtle either. It was a red flag that gave away her position each time.

She finally sprung up at his side with a shout, and she might have actually made him jump if he were anyone else. He glanced at her with mild amusement, and her grin quickly disappeared when she realized he'd known she was coming. Instead of offering an apology for her failure, she merely huffed and batted his arm as if he was at fault.

"This is yours," she stated, thrusting a loose wreath of flowers and blue stones into his hands. It seemed too long and wide for either a necklace or belt. John examined the girl as she brought her own wreath over her head, settled it at her waist, then twisted it in front of her so it circled again at the base of her neck. When she was finished she seemed to have an immense, colorful "X" across her torso.

She was simply beaming at him as she waited for him to affix his wreath similarly. Luckily the situation did not involve a great amount of variables; there was no commanding officer observing him, no teammates depending on him, no civilized human beings of any sort that he had to consider. With the enthusiasm of a man on his death bed, John swung the wreath over his head, crossed it, and looped it behind his neck as the girl had done. He figured his appearance must be laughable, but the girl seemed thrilled beyond belief. And there were no mirrors in the village, much to his benefit.

"Why exactly am I wearing this?" he asked, tugging on the wreath.

"All wear this!" She gestured excitedly at her tribe members who were now adorning themselves with wreaths similar to theirs by the log circle. The wreaths seemed to be available with a number of different flower-and-stone combinations, obviously possessing some meaning unknown and uninteresting to him. For some reason the tribe appeared to be splitting into groups of two as they decorated themselves. He was slightly suspicious about the nature of this celebrations, and what exactly the wreaths symbolized. If Lerelon was expecting anything from him, he would have to disappoint her.

A blinding flash of lightning and explosion of thunder brought the village to instant silence as the vibrations of the sound traveled below their feet. Everyone stared wide-eyed at the sky, having stopped whatever activity they had been performing. Just as John began to feel unnerved, the tribe burst into jubilant cheers and several of them started to pound on skin drums.

"Come!" the girl demanded with a wild grin. She grabbed his arm tightly and forced him to follow her as she ran to god-knew-where. They weaved through a large grouping of huts and away from the village center; their celebratory noise slowly became quieter. Soon they emerged from the collection of huts and ran up a steep hill at the edge of the settlement. John had no idea how the native girl kept pushing on so energetically. He imagined it was some sort of ecstatic state-of-mind that her people adopted during this celebration.

Or she was young and vivacious.

They reached the top of the hill and the darkened sky emerged before them. Immense fields stretched toward every direction and disappeared into the skyline. John could see the clouds above rushing toward them with anxious speed. There was what sounded like a chorus of quiet popping in the distance. At first John thought it was some strange instrument the tribe had begun to play, but it wasn't coming from behind them. It was in front of them.

He narrowed his eyes at the girl next to him and she nudged him with her shoulder. "Look!" she demanded, pointing toward the horizon. John turned his head and saw a curtain of rain stretching from the bottom of the clouds to the very ground approaching them. It was one of the most remarkable events he'd ever witnessed. It was as if the storm was a contained entity racing toward him, a wild animal deadset on a chase.

Lerelon let out a shrieking laugh and bounced on her toes. She grabbed John's hand and attempted to take off, but he refused to move.

"Where the hell are you going?" he yelled over the cacophony of the approaching storm.

"To say hello!" she answered, as if that should be expected. He bored into her with his eyes, not at all satisfied with her reply, but she continued pulling on his arm stubbornly. Swallowing his pride, he lifted his feet and let her lead him to an uncertain fate.

They dashed down the hill, half tripping over themselves, heading east toward the storm. It was amazing how fast she could run barefooted, and how goddamned excited she was over this whole thing.

The volume of the storm was so loud now that it silenced all of John's other senses. He could see the curtain of rain washing over the ground, getting much closer as he and the girl ran toward it. It was a rare moment when John could not comprehend what was happening to him and could not anticipate a plan of action. He was holding hands with a psychotic native girl sprinting towards a monster storm. It really didn't get more ridiculous than this.

The rain was soon just feet away, but the girl only increased her speed. John watched as the droplets of water greatly increased in apparent size and rushed toward him like a punch to the face. He broke the curtain of water with his body and the warm rain washed all over him from front to back. It almost felt like jumping into a river, only the whole experience was flipped on its side like zero gravity.

John could hardly hear anything now; he was buried under a torrent of water. Lerelon let go of his hand and began to jump and stumble about, her mouth open with a silenced laugh. Her hair was weighed down heavily with the water barraging her, and her meager clothing was soaked to the bone.

The girl looked so idiotic that John couldn't help but chuckle at her. Though he knew she couldn't have heard it, she suddenly looked directly at him. Her eyes were full of passion and he felt an apprehension toward whatever plan she had in mind. The girl bounded up to him and grabbed his shoulders, twirling him around so they stood side by side. Her body contorted in a powerful scream that was only partially heard over the rain. It sounded like she were underwater, the obviously intense scream barely beating out the roar of the storm. When she was finished, she pushed her face toward John's and her mouth formed the words "Now you", though he couldn't hear any of it. He wondered if it was even possible to feel more ridiculous than he did at the present moment, so he figured, what the hell?

He screamed the loudest he thought he'd ever screamed before. So loud that his throat would be feeling it for days. It felt good just to let that kind of emotion out without anyone else knowing about it. Well, there was the native girl, but John figured she didn't count. Though his scream was audible, it was still somewhat pathetic and not as loud as the girl's. Of course, it was the thought that counted.

John stopped his scream when he began to feel lightheaded. He felt a period of dizziness that quickly passed, and suddenly began laughing. He didn't know why he was laughing, and it startled him to feel the laughter bursting out of him without his provocation. The girl also started to laugh with him, though their voices were deadened by the storm. It was a feeling John had not had before that point, and one he was not at liberty to name.

But it was good.

* * *

_A/N I reorganized the chapters a bit. The story will be divided into OPERATIONS, and all of the preceding chapters are part of Operation: TIGER LILY. Hope nobody's too confused! (Also I hope didn't barrage you with emails when I changed the chapter titles D:)_

_Thanks all for the kind messages, they're what keeps me going. I'm doing way better than I was before (partly thanks to the ego-stroking), so I'm hoping to get Battlefield on the move. I just started a new semester at school but I really want to keep hammering this story out. _

_Side note: I LOVE fan art for my stories. Fan art motivates me a lot. (Wink)_


	7. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 7

_November 15, 2524_

The more Sam thought about it, the more he became convinced that he was an awful Spartan. Which wasn't to say he didn't enjoy his job—he couldn't imagine doing anything else. He loved his fellow Spartans, he loved being part of the elite. But he couldn't help feeling out of place. It didn't really _bother _him, just surprised him. He didn't expect to be the black sheep of his new family. He'd never had trouble fitting in before, that is, when he wanted to fit in.

The moment he realized there was something strange about him was when he was about 11. By this time most of the other Spartans had stopped bringing up their past lives, as if their parents and siblings from before had never existed. They had been sitting down for dinner and graciously eating the slop dumped on their plates. Sam casually mentioned his sister, whom he hadn't seen in several years. He'd never really avoided mentioning her before when the conversation called for it, but this time Chief Mendez happened to be within earshot.

Sam was beaten in front of the entire mess hall. Mendez wanted him to take it back, to say he never had a sister. In most other situations, Sam was never the type to concede quickly when in an argument. But when put in front of his peers and punched in the gut until he spat up blood… Sam refused to concede under _any _circumstances.

Dr. Halsey had to practically drag Mendez away before Sam required medical attention. Sam had confidently said, "I do have a sister," even when it became difficult to speak. So as Mendez was pulled away from the mess hall, still fuming, Sam had to smile. He won. He _did _have a sister. And nothing Mendez could do to him would make him say otherwise.

He still had a few scars from that beating. They could be hard to find between his larger, fresher scars, but Sam knew where they were. Sam realized that a lot of his fellow Spartans kept their distance from him after that little display. His closer friends stuck with him, but Sam supposed everyone else was a bit scared of him. Of course, he'd almost been beaten to death all because he refused to give up one little sliver of his past. Perhaps Mendez' command that they all forget everything that took place before 2517 prompted Sam to hold onto it with an even more maniacal persistence. There were times he would do what he was told. And there were times he would not give in even if his life was in danger.

He sort of liked being the force of chaos. Even if it disturbed his fellow Spartans, he liked it. It was fun to be the person you couldn't count on, whose alliance was never quite guaranteed. Especially when they _needed _him.

It was thoughts like this that only reinforced Sam's hypothesis. He wasn't a very good Spartan. Good Spartans planned ahead, they remembered orders, they cared about whether or not civilians survived. John was a good Spartan. Sam was just a wild animal who'd been given superpowers.

As he steadily aimed his pistol at the small boy before him, Sam took a second to wonder what a _good_ Spartan might do in this situation. John would probably tell the kid to go back to where he came from. Kelly would just laugh try to scare the kid off. Linda would just ignore him.

But, like Sam had told himself, he wasn't a good Spartan. He was a force of chaos.

* * *

John's flowered sash was now a pathetic, drenched wreck. The petals which previously hung off the sash now littered the grass beneath his feet, rain pelting them without remorse. The native girl's sash was hardly recognizable; it was barely hanging onto her shoulders as she spun about in the water. The rumble of thunder and flickers of lightning made it seem like she was performing a strange dance upon a stage. Still, as she tossed her arms up and down, John realized something. She wasn't performing for anybody. She was just flouncing about for no real reason at all. It was charming, in a childish sort of way.

Gray bleakness dulled the evening sky; the only light source was the scratches of lightning across the clouds. He wondered if the native tribe would be somewhat disappointed that they wouldn't be able to witness this revered eclipse. Judging by the intensity of this storm, he doubted they'd see a patch of clear sky until tomorrow.

"Lerelon!" he shouted over the pounding rainfall. She stumbled briefly then turned to face him, appearing somewhat disgruntled that he had interrupted her. "We should find shelter," John continued as he approached her. "It's dangerous to stay out here too long."

She snorted and laughed at him. "The rain stops soon!" she explained as if it were some great punch line to a joke. Her smile looked somewhat crazed in its passion, and John shook his head.

"No. It's not going to stop soon."

"Yes, John, it does!"

He glared at her and spat, "How do you know?"

"We _do_," she insisted, clenching her fingers desperately. "We _feel_." The girl bit her lip and sighed with frustration. Obviously she was struggling with the words, not being able to properly express herself with what little English she knew. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she pointed to a random location in the clouds. "We trust Fyrel! _Always _he stops the rain, every time." She was explaining it as if John were an infant, unable to grasp the inarguable fact that their god could control the weather. The sheer ridiculousness of this claim coupled with her inability to speak English made the effort quite pathetic. "I am baby, the rain stops. My mother baby, the rain stops. Always the rain stops. We—"

"Faith," John interjected, to save them both time.

"What?" the girl asked, eyebrows pushed up in puzzlement.

"You have faith," he repeated. Her face was utterly blank and without comprehension, so he tried again. "You have faith that the storm will stop. You can't prove it to me, but you still believe it. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded slowly but he figured she wasn't really grasping the meaning. She wasn't dim, he understood that, but there were certain things that could not be easily defined. The words for "tree" and "rock" were much easier to learn than abstract concepts like "faith". She'd figure it out in time.

"Faith," she said slowly, her eyes almost fixated upon his. "I have faith."

They were both startled by a ground-shattering burst of thunder coupled by lightning that seemed to make night into day for a brief second. Trembling waves cascaded beneath their feet and petered out as the sound of the thunder faded away.

Then there was a peaceful silence. The ground was still, the sky was calm, and the rain seemed to have been absorbed back into the clouds. John stared, dumbfounded, at the empty fields before him; with the rainfall now stopped, he swore he could see to the edge of the planet. Lerelon beamed up at the slivers of sunlight that now pierced through the clouds like needles, droplets of water dripping off her chin and nose.

John let out a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his soaking-wet hair. The clouds were now dissipating and he saw a violet-pink horizon and the very beginning of stars poking out from the dark of space. What he'd just seen was a meteorological impossibility. But… he had seen it.

A hand gently grasped his and he looked down to see Lerelon smirking at him.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now we celebrate."

* * *

_A/N_

_I like Sam. If you couldn't tell. I know he wasn't a huge character in The Fall of Reach, and I hope I'm somewhat doing him justice._

_I have the basic outline of this story figured out for the most part, and know the ending already (big accomplishment for me!). My screenwriting class is actually helping a lot when it comes to organizing everything._

_Wouldn't it be cool if I could make money off of this? Hahahaha I'm so broke_

_Anyway, see you starside._


	8. Operation: TIGER LILY, Chapter 8

He wouldn't say the drink was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, but that didn't mean it wasn't _incredibly strange_. It wasn't quite translucent; it had a kind of thickness that reminded him of whole cow milk. It was dotted with specks which might have been either spices or miniscule bugs. The thing wreaked of dirty alcohol, with some sort of fruit scent hidden beneath. John didn't think it would be wise to let a concoction like that into his body. And he was almost certain that no liquid ought to be such a muddy blue.

Next to him Lerelon was already finishing her second helping of the stuff, her clay cup nearly upside down as she stretched to get every last bit of it in her mouth. John tried to ignore the disagreeable clenching in his stomach as he watched in dismay.

They were sitting cross legged under one of the primitive canopies set up by Lerelon's tribe—the rain was clearly not going to dissipate any time soon, but that did not seem to stop the celebration. The locals were currently throwing themselves gleefully around a massive bonfire that was miraculously still aflame despite the weather. Under other circumstances John might have called the movements dancing, but he didn't think the manic spasms these people seemed to be suffering from fit the definition.

He and Lerelon were one of the few people not currently in the center of the arena. John was quite content to sit beneath a shoddily-constructed tarp suspended by a few branches. There was simply no reason to stand in the middle of a monsoon when decent shelter was nearby. Lerelon had argued with his decision at first, but she eventually resolved to sit with him under the canopy instead of joining the festivities. They could see everything perfectly well from where they sat, and had the added benefit of being warm and dry. Though they weren't exactly participating in the proceedings, Lerelon didn't seem to mind. She didn't seem to be _lucid_.

"Drink it!" she more or less commanded, shoving John's cup nearer to his face and spilling a bit of the blue stuff on his lap. He gave her a glare that went unnoticed and hastily wiped what he could off of his suit. Mendez would have his ass when they got back.

"Drink it," she repeated, more forcefully this time.

"What's in it?"

She fell back and groaned as if he was demanding far too much from her by asking this. "I do not know the words!" she whined. This was a pathetic excuse but Lerelon seemed to think the matter was closed as she flopped over and put her belly on the ground. John peered at the liquid, sloshing it around thoughtfully. It was clearly alcoholic—he didn't need to taste it to know that. He had a rudimentary knowledge of alcohol but had never been in the situation to try it for himself. Besides the fact that such substances were not allowed anywhere near the base, John didn't particularly enjoy the idea of mental impairment.

"Before!" Lerelon suddenly shouted excitedly, making him jump. Scrambling closer to him, she peered deep into his eyes and grabbed his shoulder. "The word… that you know, but you cannot show you know."

"Faith?"

"Yes! You need faith!" She laughed drunkenly as if she had just made a fool of him. He eyed her with irritation. If these natives found nothing wrong with providing an all-you-can-drink supply of alcohol to children, John didn't have a high opinion of them. But he had to admit that she was displaying no physical symptoms of intoxication. In fact, it could have been all in her mind.

Suffering what seemed to be a momentarily loss of reasoning, John took a quick gulp of the blue liquid when Lerelon's back was turned. He coughed roughly, trying very hard not to spit it out the second it touched his tongue. The girl saw his contorted face and began to laugh all over again, which did not do much to reassure him. He could feel the coolness of the drink slip down his esophagus and settling in his stomach with an odd gurgle. At this point if he happened to vomit up the foreign thing John didn't think he would mind. He didn't know what could have possibly possessed him to drink something that both his brain and body vehemently rejected, but maybe in some way he would be better accepted by the natives in doing so, and they they would show him… whatever he needed to see. It didn't quite matter to him anymore. He would remember later.

The sky turned a dull pink color, the clouds long and stringy like taffy. John considered becoming nervous at the sight but the warm gurgling in his belly was very comforting. His entire body felt surrounded by a crisp autumn wind but inside he was radiating warmth. He was just like the immense bonfire in the arena, which was now surrounded by a cold blue haze even as it continued to burn like a star. Arms wrapped around his neck and a voice deep inside him became worried, but John didn't particularly want to move at the moment, so he sat and felt the other person's skin rub against the bottom of his jaw and their face nuzzled him by his ear.

He turned and saw that it was the native girl, hugging him and laughing. She was all covered in blue, and each time her lungs pushed out a laugh a cloud of green burst from her. John wondered what color he might be but it didn't matter. A heavy feeling of peace suppressed the inquiring thoughts in his mind. He found that all he could do was exist and nothing else.

Lerelon grabbed his arm and a sound emitted from the place where they touched like a minor chord on a piano. She pulled him up, still laughing and still exhaling green mist through her pores. They both came out from under the canopy and were clothed in rain, each drop of water playing a beautiful note as it collided with their bodies and with the ground, a city of sounds played across the landscape.

Lerelon brought him closer to the fire he now felt such a kinship with and an elated sense of joy tensed inside of him until he let it go with a laugh. The smile that his companion gave him brought forth more laughter, and soon the two lost themselves in pure unbridled happiness as they both existed together alone and with everyone, frozen and on fire.

* * *

Sam walked alongside the child he had not killed with a self-satisfied grin. He was rather proud of himself for not killing the child; it had turned out to be a very good decision. And his modest experience of communicating with the locals came in handy as well. He'd have to thank Lerelon for that later.

Of course he knew there was a chance that the child hadn't completely understood, and Sam was ready to deal with that if needed. He could be headed for a different building, or some special rock they worshipped, or the Almighty Bag of Old Potatoes, fuck if he knew. There was no way to find out until they reached their destination. He could wait.

It was strange how his smooth-talking abilites always tended to surprise him, even though it was a very rare occurrence when they failed. To the kid he was nothing but an off-worlder, a big, scary, armed off-worlder, but he had managed to convince the little guy that he wanted to see the rebel society's secret headquarters for perfectly innocent reasons.

Or he'd convinced the kid to bring him to the Almighty Bag of Potatoes.

Either way, he'd achieved _something_.

* * *

A/N

Has it been like a year since I uploaded the last chapter? Probably. I don't know how you guys deal with me, I am the worst at this stuff.

Hard to believe this operation is almost over. Just two more chapters!

Thanks to everyone who's been leaving nice reviews and encouraging me with sweets. I don't usually reply because has a weird system, but I read them and they make me quite happy :)


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